Jalisco Quotes

ay jalisco, no te rejas

continued to perform as Los Reyes Jalisco.

Many of them had come from Mexico City, where they met doing yoga around Parque Hundido, and they’d spent time at Real de Catorce and Huautla, like any middle-class wannabe hippie did, before they stumbled onto Jalisco.

Six bad hombres have tried to kill Ramos. Ramos went to all six funerals, just in case any of the bereaved wanted to take a shot at revenge. None of them did. He calls his Uzi “Mi Esposa”—my wife. He’s thirty-two years old. Within hours he has in custody the three policemen who picked up Ernie Hidalgo. One of them is the chief of the Jalisco State Police. Ramos tells Art, “We can do this the fast way or the slow way.” Ramos takes two cigars from his shirt pocket, offers one to Art and shrugs when he refuses it. He takes a long time to light the cigar, rolling it so that the tip lights evenly, then takes a long pull and raises his black eyebrows at Art. The theologians are right, Art thinks—we become what we hate. Then he says, “The fast way.” Ramos says. “Come back in a little while.” “No,” Art says. “I’ll do my part.” “That’s a man’s answer,” Ramos says. “But I don’t want a witness.

The Worm at the Bottom of the Bottle Blue agave, spiny like the desert cacti, once fermented in the mesquite barrels of Jalisco, Mexico, is now manifest in the liquid smoke of my Tequila bottle. By the third shot, I think I'm in love with the gusano, the red caterpillar people mistake for a worm, pickling intact, attesting to the purity of the holy spirits. I shake the bottle and the worm falls like the fresh powder in my Montreal snowglobe of an ice skater, the globe's Christmas melody replaced by La Cucaracha playing convivially on my mind's soundtrack (in a bit in a rut because I've forgotten the second stanza). The worm has hit bottom, and so have I. I don't take this an ominous portent, but as a sign it's time to ditch the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

Mayhem and uncertainty in Mexico caused the US State Department to devise, in 2018, a new, four-tier advisory system for travelers to the country, to replace the previous system of unspecific travel warnings and travel alerts: Level 1, Exercise Normal Precautions (much of Mexico); Level 2, Exercise Increased Caution (Cancún, Cozumel, Mexico City); Level 3, Reconsider Travel (Guadalajara, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco); and Level 4, Do Not Travel (Acapulco, Zihuatanejo, Taxco).

We drove to Peachtree Battle, and pulled up to a Mexican restaurant called Jalisco.

[…] Aquí entre mazorcas y blandos juncos de tule, donde los indios tejen petates, amarran tapeistes y urden sillas frescas con armazón de palo blanco o pintado de azul celeste con flores rosas amarillas de cempasúchil, agria flor que huele a fermentos de vida y de muerte como tú… Aquí entre gallaretas, corvejones, sapos, ranas, cucarachas de agua y cucharones. Entre tepalcates, golondrinos y sambutidores pipiles. Bajo el vuelo rasante de agachonas y el rápido altísimo geométrico de zopilotillos vespéridos. Entre tuzas chatas y murciélagos agudos. Aquí te hallé última forma de soñar despierto. […]

The geese are all asleep. A few tip their heads out from under their wings as we approach. I open the cookie tin and a few more sway slowly over to us. It’s cold, and Silas has wrapped the green blanket around me so I feel like I have wings, too. I shake the tin and walk backward in a circle around them. The ground is warmer than the air and warmer still where the geese have been sleeping. The ashes fall out evenly onto the grass. They peck at the silver flakes, their beaks moving like machines, faster than the eyes can register. More join them, they don't fight, there is enough to go around. I hold the blanket open for Silas and he slips beside me and pulls it closed. "Is this weird?" "Yeah," he says. He puts his lips in my hair. "I love weird." They peck and naw for a long time. There's not much left when they are done. They putter around for a while on their wide rubber feet, their necks look made of fur not feathers. A few are trying to sleep, curtsying to the ground and burying their heads between the folded wings on their backs. I’ll miss them when they take flight. I won’t be there. Their fast excited chatter, their wings finally spread wide, their feet tucking in behind them. Wheels up. I’ll miss it. I’ll be in class or at my desk or in bed when they cut across the sky. "I want them to go right now." "I know," Silas says. "They'll go when they're ready." A book in the library said that some Canadian Geese may travel as far as Jalisco, Mexico. My mother will like that. The long, exhilirating trip, the foreign landing. But others, the book said, will stay where they are for the winter. Those geese are already home.

Instead of hiding bodies in mass graves, corpses were triumphantly displayed, as when the Jalisco New Generation (while still part of El Chapo’s Sinaloa cartel) dumped the thirty-five bodies on an avenue in Veracruz in September 2011. In reply, the Zetas scattered twenty-six corpses in Jalisco and a dozen in Sinaloa. On closer inspection, the bodies were those of ordinary citizens, not criminals: they were workers and students who had been abducted and murdered and displayed in order to strike fear in the heart of anyone who doubted the murderous resolve of the Zetas... In To Die in Mexico: Dispatches from Inside the Drug War, John Gibler writes about a related series of bizarre and violent episodes that took place in Torreón, in Coahuila state, bordering Texas: “Who would believe, for example, that the warden of a state prison would let convicted killers out at night and loan them official vehicles, automatic assault rifles, and bulletproof vests, so that they could gun down scores of innocent people in a neighboring state and then quickly hop back over the state line and into prison, behind bars, a perfect alibi. Who would believe that a paramilitary drug-trafficking organization formed by ex−Special Forces of the Mexican Army would kidnap a local cop and torture him into confessing all of the above details about the prisoners’ death squad, videotape the confession, execute the cop on camera with a shot to the heart, and then post the video on YouTube? Who could fathom that the federal attorney general would, within hours of the video-taped confession and execution being posted online, arrest the warden, and then a few days later hold a press conference fully acknowledging that the prisoners’ death squad had operated for months, killing ten people in a bar in January 2010, eight people in a bar in May 2010, and seventeen people at a birthday party in July?” Yet all of this actually happened. During April 2012, when El Chapo was at war with the Zetas, fourteen torsos — armless and legless bodies — were found in a car by the side of the road in Nuevo Laredo. Dead Zetas. Some of the torsos were in the trunk, for which there is a specific narco term: encajuelado (“trunked”; therefore, trunks trunked). Soon after, in Michoacán state, the Zetas met their match in the person of Nazario Moreno (called El Más Loco, the Craziest One), leader of the ruthless Templarios, the Knights Templar cartel, whose recruits were required to eat human flesh—their victims’— as part of their initiation rites. When Moreno was gunned down by the Mexican army in 2014, the Zetas flourished, and remain dominant. But there was a posthumous bonus for the Craziest One: he was promoted to sainthood. In and around his birthplace in Apatzingán, shrines and altars were erected to Saint Nazario, the dead capo represented as a holy figure in robes, venerated by credulous Michoacanos.

For a story on Facebook’s failings in developing countries, Newley Purnell and Justin Scheck found a woman who had been trafficked from Kenya to Saudi Arabia, and they were looking into the role Facebook had played in recruiting hit men for Mexican drug lords. That story would reveal that Facebook had failed to effectively shut down the presence of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel on Facebook and Instagram, allowing it to repeatedly post photos of extreme gore, including severed hands and beheadings. Looking into how the platform encouraged anger, Keach Hagey relied on documents showing that political parties in Poland had complained to Facebook that the changes it had made around engagement made them embrace more negative positions. The documents didn’t name the parties; she was trying to figure out which ones. Deepa Seetharaman was working to understand how Facebook’s vaunted AI managed to take down such a tiny percentage—a low single-digit percent, according to the documents Haugen had given me—of hate speech on the platform, including constant failures to identify first-person shooting videos and racist rants.

Por fin los dos jefes el (14) y Don Miguel llegan a las orillas de Arandas, organizando la gente para la entrada por distintos lados; para agarrar de sorpreza al gobierno Cibil. Al llegar los Rebeldes, les dispararon tiros a cerca distancia y los policias ni fuego hicieron._ Se rindieron al ver que se trataba de gente levantada en armas. A Arandas ya llegaron como 30 hombres de los cuales muchos no traian armas como ya hemos dicho. Unos train una “daga” algunos traian sables, otros palos, hachas, rosaderas etc. Esta gente de verla daba lastima, unos a mas de traer malas armas, traian unas garras de huaraches, su sombreros desgarrados, mochos, su bestido todos remendados, otros hiban en pelo de sus caballo, algunos no traian ni freno y otros nomás en “suadero”.

Entre los presentes estaba el diputado José López Portillo y Rojas, originario de Jalisco, quien recordaría ese episodio con el paso del tiempo, en un libro titulado Elevación y caída de Porfirio Díaz. El general, dijo ahí, denunció con razón la injusticia de condenar a la miseria, por ahorrar unos pesos, a quienes habían derramado su sangre en defensa de la Patria. “Mas expresó aquellas ideas con tantos titubeos, en estilo tan desaliñado e incoherente y con voz tan desentonada, que el auditorio se llenó de pena y casi de angustia”, escribió. “Finalmente, abrumado por la congoja y enredado en sus propias ideas y palabras, no acertó a salir del paso, no supo cómo concluir la oración, y rompió a llorar como un niño. Así bajó de la tribuna con el rostro congestionado y cubierto de lágrimas”.11 Su relato sería luego citado por todos los biógrafos, pues resultaba irresistible. ¿Es cierto? ¿Describe lo que sucedió? No.

He apologized for having agreed to change the name of the orphanage from its original, Villa Pacelli, to Villa Francisco Javier Nuño. He explained that honoring the diocese’s first archbishop —a true hero of the Catholic Faith, who survived the bloody, Freemason, anti-Catholic persecution in Mexico, whose own father was executed by federal soldiers, hung from a tree for assisting at his son’s first Mass— meant so very much to the good men and women of Los Altos de Jalisco. He also explained that the humble archbishop, now gone to God, had meant a great deal to him as well.

Del noveno lugar ocupado a nivel nacional en 1944 en cuanto a establecimientos industriales, el Estado de México pasó en sólo 25 años a ocupar el tercer lugar, después del Distrito Federal y Jalisco. Del decimotercer lugar en cuanto a capital invertido, pasó al segundo lugar nacional, después del Distrito Federal. De un octavo lugar en cuanto a personal ocupado, pasó también a ocupar el segundo. Y del duodécimo lugar ocupado en 1944 en cuanto a valor de la producción, para el año de 1970 ocupó el primer lugar, arriba incluso del entonces Distrito Federal.